Arthur and Rae
by esking
Summary: I decided to give Arthur his own OC, named Rachel. She's pretty bad ass. Some fluff at the beginning, but now I have a storyline. T for moderate language and the fact that Rae is a teenager...with serious issues.
1. Chapter 1

**Arthur and Rae**

**Greetings dear reader. This is just a conversation that I typed up at like 2 in the morning. Rachel is one of my staple characters in my Inception fanfics, but I've never posted her for personal reasons. She's generally much darker, but sometimes she and Arthur exchange banter. The only things you need to know is that she died when she was 14 and it was Arthur's fault, and now she just kind of hangs out in their dreams. Like Mal, but less psychotic (for the most part). **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Inception or Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog. Or a pony.**

Arthur shoved his hands in his pockets, enjoying the cool breeze as he walked back to his hotel from the warehouse. He'd left at the same time as Ariadne, who had walked in the other direction, for which he was glad. He wanted to be alone.

"She seems nice," said an insincere voice. He didn't have to turn to see who was speaking. He'd recognize that voice anywhere. He knew it would never leave his mind. He wasn't even angry. He always enjoyed good conversation.

"She'll get the job done," he replied evenly. "How are you, Rachel?"

"Oh, you know, same old, same old," she said in a casual voice. "You'd think it'd get old living in someone's subconscious, but yours is just fine. Eames is wrong, I tell you."

"About what?"

"About you having no imagination. I mean, _seriously_, Cobb should be _glad_ he can't dream. Some of the shit that you come up with at night?"

"You've been spying on my dreams?"

"Well, there's not a whole lot else to do. I'm never tired. You cursed me, you asshole. Now I'm stuck in this perpetual existence. And I'll always be fourteen, too. Someday, you'll have to dream me a driver's Ed school so I can actually do something with my life."

"You mean your nonexistent life, because you're dead?"

"Yeah, and who's fault is that?" Rae shot back. "Seriously, Arthur, you owe me a driving school. Maybe in a few years, I'll have set up my own little world in some unused corner of your mind. Like emotions. Nothing goes on in there."

"Feel free to move them any time you wish. I'm sure they wouldn't object."

"You're a doll. I should probably get going. Now that I have permission, construction must get under way. And no peeking until I'm done. I'm gonna set up my own mind trip paradise, and when it's finished, you can hang out all you want. Just as long as it doesn't interfere with the job."

Arthur laughed appreciatively. "Alright, deal. Tell emotions you have my permission to relocate them. They can share with liking Eames."

"Still being himself?" Rachel said sympathetically.

"Incessantly."

"Well, a _maaan's gotta do what a maaan's gotta do." _Rachel sang.

"Oh, God. Don't pull another Joss Whedon on me," Arthur begged.

"What?" she said innocently. "All I'm saying is that Eames may not be as bad as you think. 'Cause you know, _eevery drop of rain brings water flowing to things growing in the ground."_

"That's it," said Arthur, jokingly angry. "I'm taking out the music center."

"You can't do that!" cried Rachel indignantly. "It's my music center!"

"Yeah, but it's my mind. Ultimate veto power."

"We'll see about that."


	2. Chapter 2

**Arthur and Rae **

**part 2**

**Greetings, Earthling. Thanks for reading. I've actually decided to make this into a story, but the one shots are still not in chronological order. Eventually we'll get to ones where Rae is still alive (Dun dun DUN!). Hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Inception, I do own Rae. And a delightful fuzzy sweater.**

Rachel watched disapprovingly while Arthur shaved. This was one of her more impressive tricks. While in his mind, she could appear in the mirror, but not in the room.

"You should grow a mustached," she said. She was leaning against the door frame, arms folded, a critical eyebrow raised.

"Excuse me?" said Arthur, looking up at her over the sink.

"Your face is horribly boring."

"Thanks."

"You should grow a big waxed handle-bar mustache."

Arthur laughed, washing the last of the shaving cream from his chin. "Thanks, but I think I'll pass."

Rachel shook her head pityingly. "You'll never get a girl," she sighed.

Instantly Arthur's smile vanished. His eyes hardened like ice. He threw down his towel and moved out of the bathroom, leaving Rachel in the mirror. She waited for a minute or two, gave a yawn, and vanished.

_She was enveloped in a chaotic spiral of color and sound. Snatched of voices whipped around her, random flashes of images sparked and crackled. She caught sight of an octopus, a helicopter, and a giant purple oak tree. _That_ looked interesting. She leaned forward and plummeted straight towards the tree, landing lightly on her feet._

_ Children's dreams were her favorites. Kids actually dreamed about interesting things…_

**Part 3**

"You'll need Eames."

Arthur raised his eyes to the ceiling. Rachel was hanging by her knees from one of the struts which supported the vast roof of the warehouse. Her brilliant red hair looked as though it was standing straight up from her head. Lithe as a gymnast, she flipped over and landed delicately next to Arthur, and peered over his shoulder. She pointed to the collection of files he had spread out on the table in front of him.

"This guy's a serious ladies' man. Eames as a chick would get his lips flapping so fast, you wouldn't even need a second level."

"I'm aware," Arthur said stiffly. "I was trying to find a way that _didn't _involve Eames."

"Yeah, you won't find one," said Rachel. "I was just with the spokesmen for Problem Solving and Hating Eames. They've come to an agreement. Hating Eames is going to hibernate for a few months, hang out in my newly completed mind trip paradise."

Arthur groaned.

"Hey, there is another way."

Arthur brightened. "Oh, yes?"

"Yeah. Train another forger to be half as good as Eames."

Arthur's shoulder slumped. "Great. Thanks for that."

"Aw, cheer up," said Rachel. "While Hating Eames is in my paradise, _I_ am gonna help out up here."

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea," said Arthur, shaking his head. "Cobb doesn't know about you."

"I won't come into the actual _dreams_," said Rachel. "What do you think I am, _stupid?_ I'll stay up here, just help in the real world."

"That's very counterintuitive."

"I'll tell you what's counterintuitive, you no accepting my help. I'm the best."

"Or, you _were_," Arthur shot back, "When you were _alive_."

"That's just cold," Rachel pouted. "What'd you have to go and do that for?"

"You've not helping on the job."

Rachel folded her arms at Arthur's back, for he had returned to poring over the stacks of paper. "You can't keep me out. If you _don't _let me, I might accidentally slip into one of your dreams, and then Cobb will know just how little control you _really _have over you subconscious. So, _ha_."

Arthur turned around, a bemused expression on his face. "_So, ha?"_ He repeated. "_That's _your closing argument. So ha?"

"Hey, I'm a manipulator, not a debater. What more do you want? Technically, I'm a resurrected genius wunderkind miracle volunteer."

"And terrifically humble, too," said Arthur, deadpan.

"Hey, I'm dead. I get to be proud of my accomplishments. No more of this false modesty crap for me. And besides," she added, "you're the only one who knows about me, and _you_ don't mind. _Do you?"_

"Don't get too comfortable with that idea," warned Arthur, but he was smiling now. "You're only here because I feel guilty."

"Well, I'm glad to see you haven't forgotten me." Rachel patted him amiably on the shoulder. "I'll just go…spy on Cobb or something."

"You can't spy on him," said Arthur.

"And why is that?"

"Because _I'm _not. You only see what _I _see."

"That's all you know." Rachel vanished.

**Things may be getting a little less amusing and harmless in the next chapter…**

**-esking**


	3. Interlude

**Interlude**

**As my best friend/critic/editor/bane of my existence keeps telling me, I must really explain what is going on here. So I think I shall. I am calling it "The Interlude" (actually just "Interlude", as the title will indicate), because it's not really part of the story, but bears explaining so I don't have to bore you to death with exposition when I'm trying to be dramatic and exciting. So here is the boring part that you probably should read, 'cause it'll explain some stuff. But not why Rachel is dead. You'll have to keep reading for that. Oh. That means I can't explain a lot of stuff here. Whatever. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own Inception, do own Rae. She's my brain child. Yup. Child of the brain. My brain. The one inside my head. Skull. Encased in skin. I don't own a pineapple either. But I used to. But now I don't. I take it back, I don't have a brain either. WHAT IS HAPPENING TO MEEEE! AAAAAAAAAAGH!**

Expositoryness: There is a thing called the Dream Continuum, which is cool. It is basically the fabric of dreams. Every single dream ever, ever **, **_ever, _ev-freaking-er is in it. Simultaneously, past present future. That's a lot of dreams. And no one can really access it, because their brains would explode. Like mine did. Anyways, Rachel _can_ access it, 'cause her brain is smarticle particles, like Einstein, but with better hair outside. And so she can basically go into any dream ever, but can't do anything in it unless she's the dreamer, as per the usual rules. But this makes her really valuable to Cobb and Arthur, because it means she can check out marks before they go in, and see about security and inclinations and all those sorts of things, without being linked up to a PASIV device. I don't really need to tell you this. No, I do. I really do. Rachel's job is reconnaissance and awesomeness, and she goes into dreams that Arthur and Cobb and other miscellaneous associates would not otherwise be able to access more than once. Dun dun DUN! That's all I'm allowed to tell you right now. I can also tell you that shit is about to go down. Sorry to have offended anyone with eyes to sensitive to read shit. SHIT! **SHIT!** You know who you are.

**A/N: Well, that whole thing was really an author's note. But thanks for reading. I'll be uploading the next chapter at the same time as this, so fear not my chickadees. Life will continue. Have a nice day (night(life)). **


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

**Thanks for sticking with me past that little brain spasm. These things are healthy in moderation, you know. Awesome. Stories. P.S. Rae is alive right now, age 13.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Inception, Hamlet, Airplane, or Warehouse 13 (Smiley face for people who pick out the homages). Any resemblances to persons alive or dead or both is purely coincidental. Ahem.**

Extractors worked erratic hours. In dreams, it was easy to lose track of time and find oneself waking up in the wee hours of the morning. Often, they didn't return to their lodgings at all for days at a time, or else had living quarters attached to work shops. Families (rare occurrences in and of themselves among extractors) were almost sure to be neglected, and fed crafty lies to conceal absences. But there was one thing, above all others, that was the single most rarely facilitated element during the planning stages of an extraction: food.

Tonight, because she had finished early, nourishment was Rachel's job. She returned to the studio-turned-workshop on 87th and Roosevelt at 8:30 pm to find Arthur and Cobb much as she had left them. Cobb at his giant drawing pad, sketching out complicated, interweaving patterns, Arthur hunched over a PASIV machine, his spidery hands moving expertly over its many knobs and buttons, both oblivious to the rest of the world.

Rachel dropped a wrapped sandwich on the table next to Cobb's drawing board, saying, "Eat it while it's hot."

He nodded and returned to the maze, leaving the sandwich untouched.

"EAT!"

Cobb capped his pen and obediently unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite. Rachel nodded approvingly and moved on to Arthur. As she drew near, he slipped something under the PASIV case.

"Here we are," she said. "Boring cheese and boring meat on boring bread completes Exhibit A: The Boring Sandwich." She slapped it down in front of him. "But wait! Something is rotten in Denmark! Terrible subterfuge is afoot!" She gave a hearty sniff. "Is that…is that _Dijon mustard _I smell?" She clapped a hand tragically to her forehead and wailed, "Oh no! What is the world _coming_ to? Someone has tried to make Arthur Pendragon _INTERESTING!"_ She burst into false sobs.

Arthur gave a small smile, reaching for the sandwich. "Incorrect usage of subterfuge. I am _not_ the king of Camelot, and," he looked up at her from his chair, "I spend my days literally living the dream, learning deep, subconscious secrets about wealthy people, and, on occasion, fighting for my figurative sanity and/or life. Surely you can find someone more boring than me to torment."

"But your just so much more convenient." Rachel ruffled Arthur's hair, mussing the immaculately gelled do into a lopsided rats' nest. "And don't call me Shirley." She leaned onto the desk, sliding the silver case away from him. "No more work until you-" She broke off. Lying condemningly on the desk was a small rectangular photograph. Rachel snatched it up before Arthur could stop her. After a moment of examination, she groaned, exasperated. "For the love of Pete Lattimer and his magic purple gloves!"

Arthur grabbed the picture back. "What?"

"A family photo? _Seriously?_ Do you _want _to get them killed?"

Arthur gritted his teeth and didn't answer. He shoved the picture into his pocket.

"It's Cobb's job to endanger us all because of his family," said Rachel, her voice soft and dangerous. She slid off the table. "I don't need _two_ emotional idiot." She stalked away.

For a moment, Arthur was afraid she was going to tell Cobb. Hypocrite that he was, he'd probably berate Arthur. But she didn't. He knew she wouldn't. Rae would never betray him.


	5. Chapter 5

**In the Beginning**

**Thanks to all my readers/reviewers. I'm still in quandaries about how I want to proceed with Rachel, so I'm going back to the beginning. The first beginning. As opposed to the second beginning. Which is coming up. I'm also supposed to incorporate a mango. **

**Disclaimer: Inception belongs to Christopher Nolan/Syncopy/Warner Bro. (non of whom I am), Rae is mine. She and I have been through a lot together.**

Arthur strode casually up the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, enjoying the gentle breeze on his face. The sky was still a dusky blue, and the streets and sidewalks had not yet filled with early morning commuters. He'd woken earlier than usual, and decided to go to the workshop early, instead of waiting around in the cramped, depressing hotel room.

He turned a corner, passing a 24-hour grocery, inside of which was one droopy-eyed cashier. He thought about buying a coffee, but decided against it. He passed a bus stop with one lone person, a noticeably small person, sitting on the wire bench.

"I know you," said a soft voice which carried in the dim silence. Arthur turned. The person on the bench was looking at him. It was a girl, he saw now, who couldn't have been older than five or six. She had curly, fiery red hair which framed a face in set with piercing emerald eyes that were slightly unnerving.

"Excuse me?" he said politely, giving her a patronizing smile.

"I know you," the girl repeated. "I saw you in my dream."

Coming from anyone else, Arthur would have dismissed the statement as the ravings of a lunatic, or else a practical joke from anyone who knew of his profession. But this little girl seemed to see _through_ him, and he found it hardly difficult at all to believe that she had, in fact, seen him in a dream. Perhaps it was because he almost thought he had seen her too.

"Indeed?" he said, bending down on one knee so his face was level with hers. "Do you remember this dream, or is it too hazy?"

"Yes," said the girl in an irritated tone. "You don't need to patronize me, Mister. I'm not a baby. I'll be six on Tuesday. And I remember all my dreams. It's what I do."

Arthur chuckled. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend. Tell me about this dream."

"Well," said the girl, swinging her legs over the end of the bench. First I was watching my dad box a giant football, but then I got bored and went for a walk. And suddenly I was in a fancy hotel, kind of like the one we stayed in at Disney World, only boring. Then I saw you and some other guy, and you were carrying a silver suitcase.

"Intriguing," said Arthur, trying to conceal his growing confusion. She was describing to the tee the job which he had just pulled with Palmer and Clayton. "What did we do?"

The girl shrugged, but Arthur had a strange inkling that the motion was affected. "I don't really remember. You talked awhile, and then the guy who was with you opened a thing that kind of looked like a microwave that was in one of the rooms. There were papers inside it. And there was a mango." She frowned. "Why was there a mango?"

Arthur nodded slowly, thinking about the call he'd gotten from Cobb the previous night. Cobb was among his more…unpredictable colleagues. They'd worked together twice before, and Cobb was definitely the most colorful. And, more importantly, he'd called Arthur last night with a proposition for a high-stakes job on a trained mark. Arthur had been planning to turn down the job; he'd promised himself he wouldn't take any more risks than necessary, now that he had someone to whom to come home at night. But now he was thinking about this girl. If, like he thought, she could access real dreams without a PASIV device, she could drastically reduce the risk involve in Cobb's plan.

"Tell you what," he said to the girl, taking a pen and a crumpled receipt out of his pocket and scribbling a number on it, "you talk to your parents about doing a little…science project, and call that number after you've asked them."

The girl pocketed the paper, but said, "There's no need." At Arthur's raised eyebrows, she said, "I know you're trying not to come off as a creepy kidnapper. Don't worry about it. I don't have parents. I've been waiting for you."

Arthur blinked, coming to his senses. Obviously the girl had parents, and he couldn't be going around taking kids off the street. He couldn't take the job. He'd stay with Jackson, and do the easy Verizon job. Don't take risks.

"Well, you give me a call," he said, smiling. "And maybe I'll see you later."

He continued his walk to the workshop.

**All reviews appersheated. Except for Caspian's…ha, just kidding. Have a nice da-a-ay. **

**-esking**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Greetings my dear chickadees. I appreciate all the people who are reading this. It's been a very difficult process deciding which Rachel scenes I have are ones I want to put up. She's a very challenging character to rein in. But tonight (while watching the Golden Globes. Thumbs down for JGL not winning for 50/50) I was hit upon by some inspiratory ideas, and am furiously typing away. Be prepared for like 3 chapters uploaded in the space of an hour. Or maybe not. It depends on the outcome of the battle between my conscience and my desire to write. The latter is winning at the moment, but the demand of homework grows ever larger. Crap. Nope, I'm gonna write. And try to find the other scene I need for this story. To which I've just thought up an ending. Write. Story. Riiiight. BTW, Rae is dead in this one.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Inception. (I actually I do. I'm secretly Chris Nolan. Don't tell anyone). I do own Caspian's soul, but I'm thinking of just giving it to Goodwill. It's taking up space I need for my new de-atomizer/microwave.**

Arthur preferred to build in the dark. There was something incredibly satisfying about imagining the entire scape blindly, and then flicking a switch and seeing it all laid out before him. He walked slowly down the darkened hall, silent but for the soles of his shoes on the linoleum floor. Then he heard a soft scuffing, and paused. Another scuff came from behind him.

Without turning, he said, "I might've known you'd be here."

"Mightn't you have?" said a voice. "Well, I should hope so. It is _you_ mind, after all."

Arthur smiled. "Nice to see you, Rae."

"You can't see me," she pointed out, rather petulantly. At these words, the dream was suddenly flooded with yellow florescent light, illuminating a generic high school hallway lined with spinach green, metal lockers and grainy wooden doors. Arthur turned around. A few feet away, Rachel leaned against a locker, looking exactly the same as he remembered. He felt a horrible lump rise in his throat, and swallowed irritably.

"Nice," she said, looking over the hall with an appraising eye.

"Easy to make into a maze," Arthur agreed. "Everyone gets lost in schools."

"It reminds me of high school." Rachel stood up away from the wall and hooked her thumbs into the belt loops of her jeans.

"You never went to high school."

"I did on the Stein job."

Arthur's jaw clenched. Sometimes his subconscious could be a real bitch.

_Rachel kept her eyes fixed deceptively on the sidewalk, but let her other senses probe out around her, ready to fight-or run-if anything felt wrong. She kept walking down the hill, away from school, eager to get home and finish the planning. _What was that noise?_ Those were definitely footsteps. Rachel stopped, but before she could turn around, her cell phone rang. It was a piece of crap pre-paid one she only had for the duration of the job, and the only numbers she'd bothered to program were Cobb's, Arthur's, and the mark's daughter Hailey. The caller ID told her that it was Arthur._

_"Yeah?"_

_"Tonight," Arthur said brusquely._

_"Cobb hasn't given me the second level yet."_

_"I've got it," said Arthur._

_"What, so I've got a car ride to learn it?" said Rachel, a rush of irritation sweeping through her._

_"You've had less."_

_"Hailey invited me over for Saturday, can't we do it then?"_

_"We have to do it tonight." Rachel heard the WHOOSH! of a car, and realized Arthur was driving while he spoke. She thought about scolding him, just to be annoying, but his next words dashed the thought from her mind. "The FBI agent that's been tailing us landed at Sea-Tac this morning. Now is our last chance."_

_Rachel gritted her teeth. "I'm not a wunderkind," she said. "This goes south, it's not my fault."_

_"Just get Stein to talk and the maze won't matter."_

_"Whatever." Rachel snapped the phone shut and shoved it in her pocket, continuing her trek down the hill, the footsteps forgotten. At least for a moment._

_"Hey!"_

_Rachel whipped around, tense, poised to strike. A boy from her math class was standing a few feet behind her. _

_"Oh, said Rachel, feeling inexplicably flustered. "Hi." _

_He was tall, taller than Rachel, and thin but not scrawny. He had chocolate brown eyes and olive skin which contrasted magnificently against straight, dark brown hair that fell carelessly over his forehead. And that smile. _Holy crap.

_"I'm Ben," said the boy. "You're Rachel, right?"_

_"Yeah." Rachel readjusted her backpack over her shoulders. _What the hell was he doing?

_"Yeah, um," Ben fidgeted with his pockets. "," he blurted out, the words tripped over each other in a rush._

_Rachel frowned. "_What?"

_"I was wondering," Ben began, speaking slower, "if maybe you-"_

_"No, I heard you," Rachel cut in. "I was just checking to see if you had brain damage or something."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_Rachel smiled sadly. "Look, you seem like a nice guy, but I'm _really_ not the person you want to ask out."  
>"Why not?"<em>

_Rachel opened her mouth, and then shut it. Then she said, "It just wouldn't work out."_

_"Who's talking about _it_?" said Ben. "I asked you to a movie."_

_Rachel's bright green eyes roved over Ben's face. She smiled a genuine smile. "Alright, then. Yes."_

_Ben brightened. "Great. Um…when should I pick you up?"_

_"I'll meet you there."_

_At the moment, a black Hyundai with tinted windows pulled up to the curb and honked twice. Rachel swore under her breath. "I have to go," she said apologetically._

_"Wait!" Ben called, but Rachel had already pulled the passenger door shut, and he could do nothing except watch helplessly as the car sped away._

_"What the hell was that?" demanded Arthur as he floored the accelerator._

_"He's just a boy from school," Rachel grumbled._

_"What did he want?"_

_"He invited me to a movie tomorrow night."_

_Arthur turned the car onto the highway, headed for Capitol Hill. "Good," he said. "We're leaving right after the job tonight."_

_Rachel leaned back against the headrest, and several minutes passed in silence._

_"What were you thinking!" cried Arthur suddenly. "You know you can't fraternize with civilians!"_

_"It's not like I started it!" Rachel shot back. "_He _followed _me. He _asked _me _out."_

_"And you couldn't get rid of him?"_

_"I couldn't do that!"_

_"You have a black belt in karate."_

_"I don't just deck civilians out in the middle of the street!" said Rachel irritably._

_"Yes you do. You do all the time."_

_"Not real ones." After a moment, Rachel muttered. "Sometimes it's nice just to be a normal girl."_

_"Well, you're not. You've never been."_

_Rachel spent the rest of the car ride in sulky silence._

That had been a month before she died. If only he'd known then, Arthur thought, he would have let her go to the movie, would have let her stay safe in Seattle. Wouldn't have gotten involved with Stein at all.

**Thanks for reading! All reviews appersheated. Caspian, you may comment, but if you say a word about Ben, I will smack you. Hard. Because I _do_ deck real civilians out.**

**Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**The other Beginning (In which trippy things happen)**

**Thanks for reading. Peace, love, and Genghis Khan. He was a very effective ruler. History tends to overlook that in favor of emphasizing the way he killed everyone in a kingdom once, after the ruler of Turkey beheaded his diplomatic emissary. Talk about kill the messenger. Hey, Caspian and Mr. You-know-who-you-are! Psycho Killah. Qu'est-ce que c'est? Fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa bettah run run run run run run run awaaaay.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Inception or Psycho Killer. Or Princess Bride, should the need arise. Or "A Light in the Attic."**

The girl had the strap of a green bag slung over her shoulder. She was wearing a grey coat, and he had long, curly red hair which was pulled away from her face into a ponytail. She was pretty, but young. Too young, in Arthur's opinion, to be wandering the city alone. She sat at the bus stop, her head hunched over a book. As Arthur watched, a gust of wind blew a red curl into her face.

She looked up to brush it away, and her eyes fell upon Arthur. They were a deep, piercing green, and they intrigued Arthur, not only because they were neither blank nor hostile, like most projections', but because they were alarmingly familiar, and he couldn't think why. She smiled an amused, knowing smile.

And then she vanished.

Arthur blinked. It wasn't the type of vanishing one sees in movies, where a bus drives in front of the person and they walk away while it conceals them. Nor was it as though she'd disappeared into the crowd of projections milling around the sidewalk. She had been there one second, and then not there the next. Arthur stared hard at the spot where she'd been sitting, trying to rationalize it.

A chuckle form behind made him turn. The girl was sitting on the dais of a decorative fountain, legs crossed comfortably, open book resting on them, as though she'd been sitting there all along.

Arthur's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Who are you?"

"No one of consequence," said the girl, standing up and walking towards him. She was incredibly familiar. "I see my little trick has you puzzled."

Arthur narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Her voice, too, resonated in his memory. "I won't pretend to know how you did it."

The girl smiled. "You have a lot to learn about the dreamspace."

"Dreamspace?" Arthur repeated. "So you're…"

"Yeah, I'm a dreamer. A wisher, a liar, a hoper, a prayer, a magic bean buyer." The girl was drawing steadily nearer. And the memory was rising steadily to the surface of Arthur's mind. "Tell me, Arthur, do you notice anything unusual about these projections?"

Arthur looked around, and realized it had been bothering him for the past 20 minutes. "They're too docile. They should've started converging by now."

"And why do you think they haven't?" The girl was barely a foot away.

Arthur remained still. "Because they don't sense an intruder?"

The girl nodded. "Close. Because I have trained my subconscious not to attack until I myself have identified the uninvited guest. So tell me. Do I get to come and work with you now?"

And finally, Arthur remembered the little girl at the bus station all those years ago.

He smiled. "I'll see what I can do."

**Sorry about the short-ness of it. I'm getting to the point where I'm gonna start inserting Rae into the actual Inception job. She has a rather different role than Mal. Because she's a _nice_ murdering psychopath…yeah. *Golden Globes Spoiler* props for Meryl Streep, but I really wish Viola Davis had one for best actress, and I also thought The Help should have beat The Descendants for best picture. And JGL for best actor in a comedy. Damn silent film. Sigh. Caspian, no comments on that either.**

**All reviews appersheated. Pancakes are healthful food items.**

**-esking**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**Thanks for reading. I'm still on my Arthur and Rae kick. We'll see how long it lasts. I may even finish this. Or do an ending and then keep writing, 'cause I'm awesome like that. We shall seeeeeeeeeeee. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Inception. (Actually I do. I'm secretly Christopher Nolan. Don't tell him.)**

"You have one hour," said Cobb, chaining Eames/Browning to the radiator. "Start talking."

Arthur followed him out of the room, and started heading towards the window where Ariadne and Yusuf were still tending to Saito, but stopped when he heard a voice behind him say, "Ooh, tough guy."

He closed his eyes. "Rae, now is really not a good time."

"It's never a good time." Rachel was leaning against a door frame in much the same position she usually adopted, only this time Arthur sensed a tense-ness to her stance, a rigidity.

"What are you doing here?"

Rachel straightened up and gestured for him to follow her. He did, and she led him to a small, back room filled with odd, canvas covered shapes covered in a thick layer of dust. The loud pattering of the rain was still audible, but it seemed strangely muffled.

"What is this?"

Rachel turned to face him. Absent was the cocky smile she usually wore when taunting him, gone too was the forced casually bored look he'd seen whenever he touched a nerve regarding her death. Her expression was deadly serious. She was upset, and this time she wasn't trying to hide it.

"This is what you lose if things continue the way they're going right now." Her hand closed around the canvas on the object nearest him, and yanked it away. A cloud of dust engulfed her, but cleared almost instantly, revealing a life-sized statue of a pretty blonde woman holding a black-haired infant in her arms. As Arthur watched, the woman moved. She smiled up at him and said, "He's perfect." She looked back down at the baby, incandescent, and whispered, more to the baby than to Arthur, "Perfect Andrew."

Arthur looked fixedly at the wall to his left, clenching his jaw. "Stop it," he muttered. "Rae, don't do this."

"You need to see," said Rae. Her tone was soft, but far from gentle. It was firm, compelling, and despite himself, Arthur turned back to face her. The woman and the baby Andrew had been covered by the canvas again, but even as he turned, Rachel pulled the cover away from a second shape. Again was revealed a life-sized statue, this time of a toddler with hair the same shade as Arthur's, taking a wobbling step. He looked up at Arthur with hazel eyes and smiled proudly, revealing two crooked teeth. "Look Daddy!" he slurred.

This time, Arthur forced himself not to look away. His eyes drank in the little boy, starving. But at the same time, he said, "Please. Stop."

Rachel threw the canvas over the little boy, and he became still. She waved her hand over the other canvases filling the room. "Would you care to see anymore?"

"Why are you doing this?" Arthur's voice cracked.

Grimly, Rachel said, "You're loyal to Cobb to the point of idiocy sometimes, and you love your family so much it makes me nauseous. You're coming to the choosing point now. If you all get through this alive, and Saito comes through, Cobb won't bother you again. That's your cue to go home and _stay there_. But the way things are shaping up right now, that's not gonna happen." Rachel's eyes were hard as stone, and her voice had lost all of its stubborn, teasing quality. "I'm in your head, so I can say that you've turned a blind eye to all of Cobb's 'issues' for a long time, out of respect or some perverse goal of letting him fight his own battles, but that time is done. He should have gotten over Mal a long time ago, and now he's going to get everyone on this job worse than dead. And if you let that happen, this kid," she pointed to the covered lump at her feet, "is never gonna see his daddy again. And speaking from your heart, I will kill you myself if that happens."

"Rachel, you don't understand, I can't just-"

"I don't understand what?" said Rachel angrily. "Don't understand how grown-ups think? I hardly think that's fair, seeing as how I've been stuck in your head for the last four years. All I need to understand is that if you let Cobb's subconscious run rampant, you will never get home, and that's a fact. You need to-"

"Arthur!" Yusuf's voice rang sharp through the muffled patter of rain. Rachel jumped.

Without so much as a backward glance, Arthur left her alone with his memories.

**oOo**

Ariadne stepped away from Saito with great relief, more than happy to allow Arthur and Yusuf to take over the medical department. Her mind was reeling, and her hands were shaking. She took several steps away from them, meaning to go to the bathroom, but stopped when she heard a girl's voice say, "Hey, architect."

Tense, ready to bolt, she turned around. A teenaged girl with curly red hair, and wearing rain spattered jeans and soaking sweatshirt was standing near the wall, watching her.

"Who are you?" asked Ariadne, thinking of the knife-wielding Mal.

"Doesn't matter," said the girl. "What matters is that you do exactly as I say."

"Why? What do you want?"

"Well, if you stop interrupting, I'll tell you," the girl said impatiently. "For some strange, Cobb-like reason, Cobb listens to you. More than he's listening to Arthur at the moment, in any case. So I need you to do something for me."

"What?"

"Knock some sense into his thick skull so that he doesn't get you all dead-face."

"Doesn't…_what?_"

"Never mind. Look." The girl took a few steps forward. "You know all about Cobb's sob story. He's the whiny one. 'Oh, look at me, I'm depressed because I can't see my kids, but I really can because I've got a dumb elevator I use to torture myself.' Yeah, that's him. He's got about as much chance of getting a clean slate as I've got of graduating high school." At Ariadne's frown, the girl said, "I'm dead. It's kind of hard for a ghost to hold a diploma. It just keeps slipping through my fingers. Anyways, my point is, you don't get that vibe off Arthur. Bet you thought he was a loner, hiding in his sparse but expensive New York loft, buying watches, didn't you."

Before Ariadne could answer, the girl continued, "He'd just smarter, and he's got a fighting chance at getting his life back. If you help him, that is. The only way he-any of you-can get out of this, is if Cobb grows a pair and kicks Mal the hell out of the dream. And Arthur at the moment is refusing to play psychiatrist, so I need you to give Cobb a pep talk and get him to man up. Or else Arthur never gets to go home either."

"Are you his…?" Ariadne began.

"I'm no one," the girl interrupted. "Will you just give Cobb the wake-up call he needs, please?" She laughed. "No pun intended."

Ariadne looked over her shoulder at Cobb, who was exchanging terse words with Yusuf. "But how do you-" she began, turning back to the girl, but she was gone.

**All reviews appersheated. The next chapter will actually be a little before this one, but I'm heading towards a definitive end. Kind of. Happy Martin Luther King Jr. day. Fingers crossed for snow day tomorrow. **

**Hello, my name is esking, you read my story, prepare to….die. But not really. I most likely won't kill you in the morning. And I don't own the Princess Bride. Well, I do own the movie, but not the rights. right. bye.**

**-esking**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**Greetings dear reader. Not to be confused with deer reader, although I'm sure there are one or two of you as well. Don't worry, I won't hold it against you if you don't review; I know how hard it is to type with hooves. The rest of you have no excuse. Unless you do. In which case you should review and tell me about it. Ahem.**

**Yes, this takes place about 30 minutes before Chapter 8 (excluding the imminent painful flashback, because there's one of those), or 1.5 minutes in real time.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Inception, and today I'm me, not Christopher Nolan, so I really don't own it. Fun fact: Christopher Nolan has a British accent, but his brother Jonathan has an American accent. *shrug***

"I say we go with Mr. Charles."

The second the words reached Arthur's ears, a cold film seemed to spread over his body, and ice rushed through his veins. Instinctively, he shouted, "No!"

"Who is Mr. Charles?" Eames asked obliviously.

Arthur forced his eyes open, trying desperately to keep the memories at bay. "A bad idea," he said, talking quickly, trying to distract himself as much as dissuade Cobb.

"The second we get into that hotel, security's gonna be all over us." Cobb's tone was objective, disinterested, as though the plan was merely a side note he was putting forth. Except it wasn't, and he knew it. Arthur could tell he was deliberately avoiding the furious looks he was throwing him. "We run with Mr. Charles like we did on the Stein job."

"So you've done it before?" Eames sounded relieved. For a second, Arthur contemplated telling him the truth, if only to wipe that cocky grin off his face. But then he caught Cobb's eye, and thought better of it.

Instead, he merely answered, "Yeah, and it didn't work." Looking straight at Cobb, he said, "The subject realized he was dreaming, and his subconscious tore us to pieces." He finished the sentence with a vindictive fury, allowing his unsaid words to fire at Cobb with just as much power as if he'd said them aloud. Cobb's jaw tightened, and he turned in his seat to face the front while Eames said, "Well you learned a lot, right?"

_Yes,_ Arthur thought. _We learned a lot. Because it wasn't just his subconscious that tore us to pieces…_

_"Jesus Christ, Cobb, what the hell was that?" Rachel sat up, pulling out the IV and pressing her palms to her temples. "Holy _crap._ I felt like I was in "Drive". Did he really have to smash my head against the table? What the hell is wrong with a good old fashion bullet?"_

_Arthur straightened up next to her, similarly angry. "We are never doing that again," he said stiffly._

_"Relax," said Cobb in a defensive tone. "It was an experiment, and now we know it doesn't work."_

_"No, it probably would…" Rachel furrowed her brow. Arthur always found it rather comical when she did this, because it was like seeing Einstein's face on a 12-year-old. And the deep thoughts she thought generally tended to be rather good. "It would work, if the projections were focused on something else while you told the mark. They'd be too busy to notice us…"_

_Cobb looked at Arthur and smiled, like it had been his idea to hire Rachel in the first place._

**oOo**

_"Cobb," Rachel said one rainy afternoon, four days after the Stein job, "What's the likelihood that Stein would be able to ID you in real life?"_

_Cobb looked up, first surprised, then confused. "Next to none. Why?"_

_"Because I'm pretty sure I'm being followed by one of the meatheads he had with him when we first met him."_

_Cobb set his pencil down next to the pad on which he'd been doodling, and rubbed his chin pensively. "That's…impossible. It takes years to train yourself to remember dreams, unless you're you, of course," he added. "It must have been someone else following you. We'll set a tail tonight, and see what he wants."  
>Rachel did not look assured, but let the matter rest.<em>

**oOo**

_A month later, they'd been hired again, and Rachel's pursuer had been forgotten. Rachel arrived at the workshop late and panting, her rain-soaked hair plastered to her face._

_"What is it?" asked Arthur in alarm, standing up._

_"It's Stein's meathead," Rachel said, working to slow her breathing. "Damn that guy can run. I'm sure he's following m-us."_

_"Rae, it's fine," said Cobb reassuringly. "There's plenty of people who want us dead, but none with enough brains to kill us. Don't worry about it. We've got our secret weapon right here." He patted Rachel on the shoulder._

_She shrugged his hand off and rolled her eyes. "I'm not _your_ secret weapon. Even you don't know the half of my lethalness." She struck a dramatic kung-fu pose. "Care for a demonstration?"_

_Cobb laughed. "Fine. I rest my case. We have nothing to worry about."_

**oOo**

_Arthur unpacked the PASIV case early the next morning in the empty workshop, yawning, convinced he was alone. However a moment later, he heard a soft, rhythmic noise coming from the back room. Going to investigate, he saw Rachel sitting on an upturned table, watching mesmerized as a small rubber ball bounced up and down, up and down, from smaller and smaller heights until it finally rolled to a stop. Arthur didn't understand. Rachel's grip on reality was ironclad. She'd never had any problems keeping it. He'd never seen her use her totem at all since she first acquired it. Why was she testing reality now?_

_"Rachel?" he said, pushing the door all the way open. _

_She jumped and looked up from where she was kneeling to pick up the ball. "Huh? What?"_

_"What're you doing?"_

_"Nothing." Rachel's voice was breathy, and higher than usual. "Just, you know…" she threw the ball against the wall and caught it. "Playing. I get to do that, you know. 'Cause I'm a kid and all. Wanna play? It's quite fun. It's like chess, only with a rubber ball…and no killing. Well," she added in a weak attempt at humor, "_some_ killing, when I pound your ass into the ground." She held the ball out in offering._

_Trying to conceal his alarm, Arthur smiled and said, "Tempting, but I think I'll pass. Gotta get back to the grindstone. The job, and all that."_

_"Riiight." Rachel followed him out of the room. _

So that's how we're going to play it,_ Arthur_ _thought throughout the rest of the day. _Just pretend nothing's wrong?

**This is becoming more in depth than I was intending, so bear with me. My problem is that I have about a bajillion and one stories with Rae, and (as Caspian will attest) there are some serious continuity problems. I'm considering just putting them up as a series of one shots, because some of them are rather amuzzling. Let me know what you think. But yes, I'm trying to root out a reconcilable storyline for this, and I think I've got one. Patience, my young Padawans, and you shall be rewarded.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Inception, except on Tuesdays. But not really then either…my life sucks. I'm just gonna jump around now, because there's a lot I need to say, and none of it's in order, so I'll try to tell you where in the grand timeline of the universe (which really isn't linear to begin with) the chapter takes place. This is during the extraction on Saito at the beginning of "Inception." **

"Head back to the room," said Cobb quietly, "Alright? I'll take care of it." He started walking away, across the balcony, towards the woman in the black evening gown.

"Make sure you do, we're here to work!" Arthur called irritably after him, before turning and walking back inside.

"You shouldn't be so hard on him."

Arthur turned. Leaning casually against a priceless ancient Japanese vase was Rachel, wearing black jeans and a black jacket.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't be so hard on Cobb about Mal. You don't understand what happened." Rachel took a few steps toward him.

"And you do?" said Arthur, half challenging, half skeptical.

Rachel dropped her eyes to the floor.

Arthur shoved his hands into his pockets and asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Would you believe me if I said I got here by accident?"

"I wouldn't believe you if you said you had red hair," Arthur shot back, nodding to the fiery red curls.

"Fine," said Rachel. "Incidentally, I'm a blonde. So, I'm in my mind trip paradise, minding my own business, hanging out with George Clooney, when I hear this alarm, like the ones you get in sci-fi movies that say, " she dropped her voice to a cool monotone, "'Secure airlock. Secure airlock,' only in Japanese, and it was saying, 'You're dreaming. You're dreaming.' I think it was the Asian version of extractor defense. Anyways, I thought I might drop by, and lo and behold, I found the source of the alarm."

"You mean somebody's programmed an alert in Saito's subconscious? But the research said he'd not been trained," said Arthur. "I did the research myself, how did I not see that he'd been trained."

"Well, sawdust-brained as most of the world is," Rachel sighed, "perhaps extraction's finally made enough of a name for itself that people are learning not to broadcast their deepest secrets all over the media." She shook her head dramatically. "What will happen to People magazine?"

Arthur considered the first part of Rachel's musings, remembering Saito's sly smile as Cobb talked about dream security, and the way he'd looked so deliberately at his safe. "I was afraid of something like this."

"What are you gonna do?"

Arthur shook his head. "Cobb's already set events in motion. Interfering now would be suicide. We just have to hope that he gets to the safe before Saito gets to him."

"Could it have been Mal?" asked Rachel.

"I don't know. I wish I could say I didn't think she would betray us, but…" Arthur trailed off, thinking of their previous job, in which she'd very nearly gotten both him and Cobb caught.

"I can distract her," Rachel offered. "Just make sure Cobb gets to the safe, and if it is her, she won't be able to tip off Saito's security."

"Why are you helping me?" asked Arthur as Rachel turned to leave. "Last week you were back to trying to kill me."

Rachel didn't look around. Her hand rested on the polished wood banister. "If you finish the job after this one, Cobb can go home." She took a step up the stairs. "And maybe you can too."

"What do you mean?" Arthur called after her.

"Laura misses you, and so does Andrew." Rachel was about to disappear.

"What about last week!"

"PMS!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**I still don't own Inception. And picking up right where Chapter 10 left off…**

Mal was in the hotel room with Cobb. Rachel hid outside the door until the saw him lower himself out the window. Mal was now alone in the room, sitting in a maroon leather chair, looking around disinterestedly. Rachel stuck her head through the door.

"Mal," she hissed.

Mal twisted in the chair. "Rachel? What are you doing here?"

"I can't explain right now, but you need to come with me. Hurry!"

"I can't," said Mal. She gestured to the rope leading from the chair to the window. "Dom…"

"_Please!"_

Mal bit her lip, a pained expression on her face, and then rose form the chair. She second she did, it shot towards the window, and she shouted in alarm. But then it hit the window frame and jerked to a halt. Mal let out a relieved sigh, and followed Rachel out into the hall.

Before Rachel could say a word, however, there was a low grunt and a cry of pain. Both turned to see two projections in tuxes dragging Arthur forcibly down the stairs.

"What's going on?" asked Rachel.

"I'll go talk to them," said Mal. "Stay here." And she strode away without another word.

***Magical time machine transports the reader back to a time after the Stein job, while Rachel is alive n' kicking***

"It was a pleasure doing business with you Mr. Greenberg," the rep shook Cobb's hand briefly. "Mr. Anders." Arthur kept his hands in his pockets. After an awkward pause, the rep withdrew his own and reshuffled a perfectly straight stack of files. "Very good. Is there anything else you wish to discuss?"

"Yes, actually," said Cobb. The rep looked up from his desk. "Our Somnacin supplier has been, er…neutralized. We'll require some. I presume you'd prefer us not to put in a request at the regulation board?"

"Yes, of course, Mr. Greenberg," said the rep. "We'll see that you get some."

"Very good." Cobb led the way out of the office.

**oOo**

"Jesus H. Christ and all his wacky nephews," Rachel groaned, sitting up. "What the hell was that?"

Cobb and Arthur straightened up as well, with similar grimaces of pain. "This is what happens when you use borrowed Somnacin," said Arthur. "We should've just rooted out our own source."

"Beggars can't be choosers," said Cobb. "Least we got it done." He shot a look at Rachel. "We did get it, right?"

Rachel nodded. "Yeah. It's a little blurry." She tapped her head. "But it's in there."

**oOo**

"Have you seen Rachel?"

Cobb looked up from his maze, blinking. "Huh? No, she went out."

"How long ago?"

"Uh, a few hours ago? She just said…I don't remember." Cobb rubbed his eyes. "Still kind of fuzzy from the Somnacin, I guess."

"Yeah," Arthur nodded, looking unconvinced. It wasn't the first time Rachel had disappeared for hours on end. She'd never been one for a structured schedule.

Arthur turned back to the PASIV case on his work table, and as he did so, noticed a small rubber ball sitting behind it. It never occurred to Arthur to wonder why Rachel had left her totem. She rarely used it anyways. That should have been the first clue.

**oOo**

Ariadne stormed out of the warehouse. Arthur smiled and shook his head, beginning to close up the PASIV.

"She'll be back," said Cobb, re-emerging from the bathroom. "I've never seen anyone pick it up that quickly before."

Arthur snapped the case shut with unnecessary force. "Really?"

Cobb gave him an odd look, then seemed to understand. He frowned. "Don't start."

"I have to," Arthur shouted after his retreating back. "Before somebody else ends up a the bottom of the river."

Cobb stopped, but did not turn around. Quietly, he said, "Nothing was proven." He continued walking and slammed the warehouse door behind him.

Arthur slumped onto one of the lawn chairs, resting his head in his hand. Of course nothing had been proven. Nothing ever would be proven. No body had been found, and legally, Rachel Walker didn't exist. They didn't even know if that was her real name. And it wasn't exactly like they could go to the police and believed she'd been poisoned by a substance which was still technically over a decade in the future. Arthur's own investigations had been pathetically fruitless. And nothing had been proven.

From his pocket he took the small bouncy ball and rolled it around in his palm. Maybe Ariadne _would _be different.

**All review appersheated. I think the next chapter will be the last. Unless divine intervention intervenes divinely. But I don't think it will.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**Well, my friends, your journey is almost at an end. Almost. Not quite. And, as Caspian says, "Endings are overrated," so be prepared to have a party. That didn't make sense. Gonna stop talking now. BTW, this is now after Inception, and Arthur showed a sudden uncharacteristic amount of sense and WENT THE FRAK HOME! Just like Rae wanted.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Inception.**

The doorbell rang.

"Laura?" Arthur called up the stairs.

"It's the baby sitter!" came Laura's shout.

"What baby sitter?"

Laura clattered down the stairs in high-heeled shoes and an uncharacteristically slinky dress. "We are going out tonight," she said, kissing Arthur lightly. "We haven't had a romantic dinner in almost a year, and that, my dear, is _not_ okay."

An insistent knocking floated toward them. "So, can you get that, and I'll finish getting dressed?"

Arthur moved toward the door, then asked, "Wait…do I have to get dressed up too?"

"Just answer the door!"

Arthur pulled the door open, and felt all the breath vanish from his lungs. The baby sitter was in her mid-teens, and tall for a girl. He hair was bright red and curly, pulled back into a ponytail, and her eyes were a bright, emerald green.

"Rachel?"

The girl frowned. "Um, sorry, this is Laura Miller's house, right?"

"Oh, Rebecca, hi." Laura had appeared at Arthur's side. "Sorry, come on in. This is my husband, Arthur. He just got back."

The girl, Rebecca, smiled. "Nice to meet you." She held out her hand, but Arthur just stared at her.

"Arthur, this is Rebecca Koster. She's Andrew's babysitter."

"Very good…" Arthur blinked hard, and then started upstairs to change.

**oOo**

Arthur was amazed at how easily he was able to slip back into his normal life. It was like he'd never been gone. Laura had always been good about not asking about work. He sometimes felt that she knew more than she let on, but none of that mattered now. He was done. He was an honest citizen.

They returned home at around eight, and saw the Rebecca was still up with Andrew. They were sitting opposite each other, cross-legged in the living room, and Arthur could hear a rhythmic thumping noise. Drawing nearer, he saw that they were bouncing a small rubber ball back and forth across the floor…


	13. Not a Chapter 1

**NOT A CHAPTER!**

**Godammit. I knew I was leaving something out when I posted that last chapter. Now I'm mad at myself. Oh well. There's no use crying over spilled blood. Here's a bit I meant to add in, that happens while Cobb and Ariadne are in Limbo looking for Fischer.**

"This is your world?" said Ariadne, squinting through the saltwater dripping from her hair into her eyes.

"Was," said Cobb. "This is where she'll be."

"But it's huge. How will you find her?"

"There's somebody who might know."

They wandered through the streets, Cobb leading deeper and deeper into the labyrinth. Finally, they rounded a corner and were faced with an incongruously placed playground, complete with jungle gym, swings, and stationary merry-go-round. On the swings sat a red-headed girl of maybe eight or nine, swinging slowly back and forth, her toes skimming lightly across the dusty asphalt. She was several years younger, but Ariadne recognized her, after a second of scrutiny, as the girl she'd seen in the first layer.

"That's her," said Cobb.

Ariadne looked at him disbelievingly. "The little girl?"

Cobb gave a slight smile. "Never judge a book by its cover." By now they had reached the edge of the playground. Here, Cobb stopped. "Stay here," he said to Ariadne. "She doesn't like strangers."

"But how is…" Ariadne began, but Cobb ignored her, "…she here?"

She watched Cobb continue forward until he reached the swings. "Hello, Rachel," Ariadne heard him say. The little girl dragged her feet until she came to a complete standstill.

"Hello, Cobb," said Rachel. She looked suspiciously over at Ariadne. "Who's the broad?"

_You know who I am,___Ariadne wanted to say, but Cobb answered, "That's Ariadne. She's the new architect."

"So _she's _the one who nearly ran me over with that damn train." Rachel's impish scowl was replaced by a sheepish grimace. "Or was that Mal?"

Cobb nodded slightly, and said something Ariadne couldn't hear. She took a few steps forward.

"Sorry," Rachel muttered.

"'S fine," said Cobb. "Actually, that's why we're here. Mal's got the mark. Thought you might've seen them."

Rachel looked intensely up at Cobb. "I've learned to stop seeing things. Found it less than beneficial for my health." After a pause, she said, "So who _are_ you looking for, then?"

"Skinny," said Cobb. "Light brown hair, pale, probably wearing a suit."

Rachel nodded. "Yeah, I saw them. But I have to ask, how did they get down here?"

"Mal shot him," Cobb admitted.

"And he didn't wake up." Rachel shook her head, sighing. "You _idiot_, Cobb! I thought you'd learned by now that sedation _doesn't work_!"

"It did until Mal showed up," said Cobb defensively.

"And who's fault was that?"

Cobb said nothing.

Rachel sighed and rolled her eyes. "She's at your old apartment. I take it you remember where that is?"

Cobb nodded. He didn't thank the girl, but merely motioned to Ariadne to follow him as he continued past the playground.

"Cobb!" The shout came just as Cobb and Ariadne reached the deserted intersection. They turned back. The girl was still sitting on the stationary swing, but looked noticeably older now. This, Ariadne could tell, was the same projection with whom she had spoken on the first level.

"Say hi to Arthur for me."

**So yes, that was another one shot I'd written and intended to incorporate. Odds are there will be more as well. All reviews appersheated. I like snow. I don't like power outages quite as much. Thanks for reading!**

**-esking**


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